Title: Koji ma Oshi
author: Sol 1056
rating: NC-17 for sex, violence, and dirty mouths
warning: BDSM, psychological issues, post-post-EW
pairings: 2x1, 3x5x3, 4xR
Hour and a half on the tunnel-shot; hour and a half of hell.
Normally a body wouldn't think someone like Heero would sulk, but he did when we were kids, and apparently he hadn't lost his touch. Thing is, it was a little different when it was some scrawny-if-compact kid who barely broke a hundred pounds sopping wet holding a brick. When it's someone who could bend steel but was nine inches taller and seventy pounds heavier--at least, by my guess--that unhappy glower carried a bit more punch.
I'd felt the muscles when I grabbed his arm that afternoon. And not that I had memorized the view or anything, but I got a good look at his chest that night I followed him to the club. He'd grown but was still four or five inches shorter than me, and yet I bet he still weighed more than me--and it was all goddamn muscle.
Bastard.
The tunnel-shot passed in silence, and I can handle silence but when it's as cool--no, freezing--as Heero's, I could only sigh and do my best to keep a low profile. I'd gone straight to my room, somehow changing out of my pants and shirt in ten seconds flat, wiping myself down with a wet washrag and changing into darker gear, while shoving everything into my bag and grabbing the laptop. Yes. I am a human whirlwind. Heero had been pacing his room for almost an hour, and was beyond furious--hence the glare for the entire duration of the tunnel-shot.
I debated telling him ahead of time I needed to go by the storage unit. I wondered how long I'd live once I said the words. Not long, probably. I figured it could wait.
Heero broke in through the back of a nearby apartment building and headed to the roof, and I shouldered my pack. I didn't waited until he came over the line. We were cutting it close, and all thanks to my stupidity staying at the club too long. I was at the back door of the building, picking the lock and inside before I heard him.
"Test, oh-two," he said, in a monotone. "Fifteen minutes to colony sunrise."
"Yeah, yeah," I replied.
But to waste time checking equipment! Damn him. We'd done this roughly once every forty-eight hours for three weeks. The equipment was fine. But no, he had to check every little thing, control every single moment. If there were a way to make me breathe at a set pace, I'm sure he'd use it. I slipped down the darkened hallway, dismantling the security system temporarily and planting listening devices at regular intervals. They wouldn't broadcast far, but they were hidden nicely and that was worth the compromise.
"First set in place," I said.
Heero paused, and I just knew the asshole was contemplating my early death for getting the jump on him. "Copy that," he finally said. I could hear clicks on the line while he set up the laptop and began adjusting for the distance.
I kept an eye out for early morning visitors, and entered the first office on the right. Not much but shipping receipts and an old desk, but if this was the place, this was the place.
"All clear," he said, after another minute.
"Roger." I sighed and began installing the biggest insects. Finish here, and we'd have passed the halfway point.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A week later I threw him off the project.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It was two days after we'd left L2 that I got frustrated with the lack of conversation. He'd sulked the entire way to the storage unit, waiting impatiently while I retrieved my stuff and dropped off the key. By the time we'd returned to Earth, dropping into Tokyo in the gray light of pre-dawn, I wasn't sure whether I should apologize one more time--hadn't since I'd knocked on his door, panting hard with my stuff in my arms--or just offer to let him punch me so we'd be even. Once upon a time, things like that made sense to the asshole.
He poured cream into his coffee, staring at it with that mile-long stare he'd had on the whole shuttle-flight. I waited until he'd picked up his bag and began walking toward the exit, falling in beside him.
"You still mad at me?"
Heero blinked visibly, frowned at his coffee, and then at me. "About?"
"The other night." I had another swallow of my coffee--black as night, bitter as a broken heart--and contemplated getting a whole batch of it to use as paint stripper. Might be the only thing that could clean the shower stall in my apartment.
"No." He shook his head curtly. The signs in Standard and characters directed us through the wide empty hallways, great sheets of glass showing a gray-laden world of quiet jets and distant shuttle pads. We'd have to take a cab to Preventers' headquarters in Tokyo; the hotel wouldn't let us check in this early.
I strolled along beside Heero, noting the muscles corded in his neck. Man, that boy was wound tight. "So what's bothering you?"
"Nothing."
Uh, yeah, and I'm naturally bald, Heero. Fuck that. Any answer coming that sharply, that fast--pretty much a dead give-away. I chuckled, and he glared at me. "Heero, don't bother lying. You suck at it."
He didn't say anything, just stared past me. Those flat blue eyes were worn and closed-off in his tired face.
"Then just tell me if it's something I did," I muttered.
I really wasn't up to dragging it out of him. I wanted to appear cheerful and on top of things for yet another pretentious local Lieutenant either dreaming of talking to an Assistant Director, or pissing in his pants for fear--either way, they didn't tend to take kindly to us. I didn't want to have to waste what little energy I had left doing a two-step around Heero's emotional minefield.
"Duo," Heero replied, and for the first time in several days, he sounded almost amused. "You're too full of yourself."
"Fuck you," I said, but I was teasing, and the quirk of his lips showed he knew it. "Then if it's not something I did, then it's not something I can fix?" I flexed my fingers around my bag's strap, and took a mental breath: here we go. "We're friends, right? If there was something really wrong... you'd let me know. And I'd do what I could--"
"We're not friends," Heero said. "We... we just work together."
I wasn't sure whether to fall over my feet in shock, or to nod dumbly at the stark neutrality of his voice. Thing was, he was probably right. We barely talked; I didn't know if we had anything in common, not now, not like when we were kids. I'd figured he was just getting used to being around me again, but--no, whatever it was, I'd just have to work with it. And him. But first I had to know.
"That a verdict, Heero? Or just the current state of affairs?"
He turned puzzled blue eyes on me, then his gaze darted away. I saw that flicker, asshole, and you can hide all you like and pretend to be seriously checking out the construction of the automatic glass doors up ahead, but I know when you've been thrown. I just fuckin' wish I knew why you had that reaction. Bloody fucking hell! I could hear Hilde in my head: don't punch him, Duo. That would be unprofessional. And then she'd laugh, because she'd know I wasn't going to anyway, and she'd keep laughing until I had to laugh, as well.
Just thinking about it made me chuckle. I was surprised when Heero's attention came back to me, lightening-quick.
"What?" He looked confused, a bit defensive... and hopeful? Hard to say.
"Just thinking about Hilde," I said--and then heard my words. I was instantly serious, the pain back, and I had to breathe through my nose for a moment.
"Oh." He nodded, and I realized we'd come to a stop in the middle of the traffic pattern.
Shuttle port was mostly deserted, but wouldn't you know the only five other people in the whole place had to leave through the same door. I took a chance and guided him out of the way, but when I raised my hand, he moved before I could touch him.
"Yeah, sometimes I do that," I replied, not sure where the conversation was going. I almost managed to ignore the way he'd avoided my touch.
"I'm sorry," Heero said, and it was possibly the closest I'd ever seen him blurt something.
Just--there, bald-faced, out, just like that--and it wasn't just that it was the first time he'd ever apologized. It was how it made me feel. Rarely had his unexpected wartime announcements left me both as cold and hot as this one did. Okay, maybe the time he admitted he was planning to fight with the Zero system on, but... I shoved the comparison away. I couldn't be in the past. I had to be there, with Heero, right then. And I couldn't lie to him, couldn't play it down, couldn't pretend it was okay. It hadn't been, and maybe it never really would be.
"It was hard." I didn't look at him. I stared out through the large glass windows across the cabs, cruising the empty shuttle port, gray and black in low morning fog. "I wanted you there. She considered you a friend, too."
Heero flinched, and dropped his head. "It was the month before my dissertation defense."
"Well, you could've told me that--"
"I sent a letter in February!" Heero looked distraught. "But you never wrote me back."
"I got your flowers." I crossed my arms and stared him down, angry that he'd lie. He sucked at it. I ignored the part of my brain whispering that maybe he wasn't lying... Hilde had died in April. "I didn't get a fuckin' letter."
"It was a hardcopy." He dropped to an almost-mumble. "With my dissertation. I wanted your feedback... and I... "
I didn't know what to say to that.
Heero scowled, suddenly, and gave the most peculiar abrupt shrug. "Never mind," he snapped, and shoved past me.
It dawned on me that he thought I was lying.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
In the absence of conversation--what the fuck do you say to someone? Sorry? I never got it, and why didn't you drop me a line and ask, you damned closemouthed neurotic asshole?--I began reading everything I could find on the 'net. It was easier than dealing with the fact that a year ago he might have tried to make contact and my lack of response convinced him that not only did I not care, I didn't even care enough to tell him so.
That sucked. So I did my best to not think about it, until I figured out what I could say. I let the days continue, and counted them off every night, after every pre-dawn job.
Fly all night and half the day. Meet with the local contacts, show 'em the stuff, give the informal class, listen patiently to yet another big-fish in small-pond give yet another fuckin' speech to his toadies on Crow-71, and hustle Heero out before he popped a vein. Stay up all night reviewing the schema and information--after that one time, I didn't go out again--but I didn't need more than an hour or two to plan. Get a general idea and then go and see what happened when I got there.
The rest of the time I read. Safe words. Negotiation. Newbie questions. Courtesy. Robe bondage. Scene lingo. Role-playing. Fetish. I tore through the pages, trying to find that something, that one moment that would say, here, this is Heero. This is what he was doing there, this is why he'd dress in black leather and head out on a work night to a club where...
No, nothing ever popped up, nothing explained it all to me, though my head spun every time I looked at him; I had plenty of chances, since he wouldn't even look me in the eyes. Did he know any of this? Had he just been standing on the sidelines, or did he know what was going on at the club or was he part of it?
The only role I could definitely see Heero in was that of a Dungeon Master. Someone who'd protect others, and keep them safe--and judging from Mikel's and Sarah's behavior, that kind of role was independent of the roles one played inside a scene. I could see Heero being quite good at that, and I did laugh--if bitterly--at the idea of anyone contradicting him. They'd learn fast enough.
Five days after our little heart-to-heart in the shuttle port, and Heero hadn't talked to me except when absolutely necessary. At first I thought he'd been going on with the silent treatment, then I realized: he was at the complete end of his rope. It didn't make any sense. People didn't change that much... did they? What was different now that he'd be flipping out so quietly in the corner, when during the war he just barreled onward without stopping? It was possible he was still feeling hurt and guilty about those months around Hilde's death--or still angry at my irresponsibility that one time--but Heero didn't hold grudges. He'd always said they were inefficient.
Then again, maybe that had changed, too.
Once upon a time, he could do what he needed, pay any price, because he didn't expect to make it. Burn out, not fade away. Yeah, that was Heero to a fuckin' T.
But now? He was fading, and it was dragging down the assignment. It meant I was doing all the work with the local offices, while he scowled and carried the briefcase. He sat outside while I snuck in, and ran scans on buildings, silently waiting until I returned. No one spoke to him, and he spoke to no one. And a few times I'd caught him staring out the windows of the Preventers' shuttles with a forlorn look.
It was two in the morning on the last day of that fourth week. I was dozing after reviewing the schema for the Moscow job, and it hit me. I sat up straight on the lumpy motel mattress, feeling as stunned as though I had just been smacked.
I knew that look. I saw it on my own face when I thought of Hilde.
Suddenly furious, I got to my feet, and strode from the room. To hell with the fact that I was stalking down some cheap-ass chilly hotel hallway in old sweatpants--I wasn't going for a fashion look. I was going to kick some ass.
I pounded on his door in rapid time, not caring that it'd still take him a minute or two to get to the door. And so help me, if he asked who it was, I was gonna fucking kick the damn door in.
Heero opened it. He was still in his slacks and shirt, though the shirt was undone halfway and he looked disheveled. I shoved past him before he had a chance to even glare at me, and headed straight for his bags. I grabbed the nearest set of clean clothes and threw them in. One step to the sink and I'd swept all his toiletries in, too--not a lot, just shampoo, razor, soap--and it all clattered as it fell into the bag, in disarray.
"You're leaving, Heero," I told him. I ripped the laptop cord from the wall and shoved his laptop into its case. "Now. The hotel can find you the first shuttle back to Bremen."
"Duo! Stop--" Heero yanked the laptop case from my hand. He looked wild-eyed, but no more than me, I suppose. "What the fuck are you doing?"
Well, is that a good sign? He cussed. Either very good, or very bad, and I didn't care. I zipped up his bag and picked it up. "Get your shoes. I'll damn well carry you if I have to."
"No." Heero threw his laptop case onto the bed at that, and yanked the bag from my hands. "I'm on this assignment--"
"And it's my motherfuckin' assignment," I yelled. "Mine, Heero. I'm running this show, not you. And I say you're off the damn assignment. Gone! History! Out!"
"I'm supposed to do the--"
"You've not done jackshit for the past week, and you were going downhill before that," I shouted. "You're going to compromise our diplomatic contacts if not the assignment itself, if you keep this up--"
"I would do no such thing," Heero replied, a bit stiffly. "I'm perfectly--"
"I don't want to hear it," I snapped. Picking up the laptop case, I threw it at him; he caught it, but the move was awkward. His eyes were wide, his mouth open a little, and I realized how many years it'd been since he'd seen me truly angry, if he ever really had. "Heero, you are not here. I need you here, with me, not off in some la-la-land in your head."
"My skills--"
"Are ones I could do in my sleep!" I considered punching him, and was shocked to realize if I did, I'd probably knock him down. He was shaking, but for passion, fear, or indignation, I couldn't tell. His hands white-knuckled the laptop; I picked up the bag and grabbed him by the elbow. "Shoes. Now."
"Trowa will--"
"Not interested. My case, not his," I reminded him, and threw the bag full-force at the wall. "My damn best friend who got iced by this shit, Heero. Not Trowa's, not Quatre's, not yours! Mine! Nothing to do with you, at all!" I stabbed a thumb at my chest, angry enough to--I don't know, I just wanted that look off his face. I wanted to him to accept it, to understand why I had decided--
"I won't leave," he insisted, unmoving. "It's a two-person--"
"I can get officers from each locale to perform your duties," I snapped, and he visibly flinched, then looked away with a slight line between his brows. That one image was enough to take the venom right out of my fangs. "Heero," I said, trying a bit more gently, "there's something in Bremen that you miss."
His eyes went wide, and he stared at me, but he said nothing.
"Yeah." I rubbed my temples and tried to center myself. Calm down. Don't bite the head off of the poor guy, right? "I know that look. I miss Hilde. And... I wasn't good for a year, maybe I'm still not good for much. But... you miss someone, too. Go home. I'll meet up with you when I get done with this stage."
"Back... " Heero frowned, and shook his head, one more time.
"I'm not going to discuss it with you," I told him, and picked up the bag. "Put your shoes on. You're heading home... and I hope that maybe a little visiting time with... " I wanted to say sweetie, for some perverse reason. "With whomever you're missing, and you'll be okay again."
We stared at each for a long moment, and it was... I guess we get used to seeing people with the face we always knew. Maybe that doesn't make sense, but all this time I'd been seeing Heero, but the face I really saw was the boy I knew ten years ago. I remember telling him across the hospital's two-way screen that I was sure he could read lips, and he just closed his eyes, face turned to the ceiling. A striking profile, if nothing like the rough trade faces I knew among the Sweepers. There was something almost innocent, dignified, intense.
I saw that face every morning, at lunch, after class, across the table from me in the library. I saw that face in the doorway of a small jail cell, slim shoulders and lean body if hard, implacable--and never quite what one would expect.
Not the same face, as an adult. Oh, Heero was in there, but his cheekbones were sharper, the jaw a bit wider if still narrow, the lips full but firm. Nose long, eyebrows thickly arched, hair tousled like it would never be controlled and he'd given up. I could see the child in his face, but for that long moment, I saw the adult.
And there in those blue eyes, the color of winter oceans, I could see it. He was lonely, and aching, and missing something. He wanted reassurance, contact, a purpose--and none of it from me. Whatever he wanted, I couldn't give him.
But I could still protect him, even if that meant sending him home so his... not inattention, since Heero was sharp if nothing else... just his emptiness. Yeah. His emptiness would jeopardize my case at some point. And if it were within my ability to fill that, I would, even if it meant acknowledging that my friendship wasn't ever gonna do the trick.
Yeah, it sucked. But that's the way it was.
"Go on, Heero," I whispered, and jerked my head towards the hotel door. "I'll see you when I get back to Bremen."
His fingers moved against the laptop case, clenching, releasing, tightening, and he nodded, a curt motion. Without a word he retrieved his belongings, stuck his feet into his shoes, and slipped from the room on silent feet.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It felt odd to continue the next two weeks without him. I'd gotten used to him at my side, even though he'd not said or done much. And in the absence of him around, I felt like I was being stretched thin, beyond all measure. Yeah, so he hadn't done much that last week or so, but he was there.
It sucked.
I started looking closer to home, in the pages for Paradiso, and ended up emailing someone. Eventually I had to shit or get off the pot, right?
Yeah. That's what I told myself.
In the meantime, I managed to keep Wufei's calls short enough--hey, in the shower! Hey, in the can! Bad timing--had it out with Trowa and stared him down--my damn assignment and take it up with Une if you don't like it--and barely managed to avoid Quatre's attempts to reach me.
Just not interested. I don't know what Heero told them, if anything, but I was sending the information in like clockwork and all boxes were checked. They had no reason to get on my case.
I arrived back in Bremen on a rainy afternoon, and took a cab to my apartment. Dropped my bags, put the laptop up to charge, brushed my teeth, stared longingly at my bed, and turned around and headed for the office.
Wasn't surprised in the least to find Heero there. He didn't quite jump but he did jerk a bit when I walked through the door, as if I'd startled him just a bit.
"Sorry," I said, feeling sheepish.
I still sometimes walked too soft, and forgot that some folks--not mentioning any names here--like to be warned. Then again, Heero might pull a gun but he'd only wave it around. Hilde would throw things, and her aim was as good as Relena's.
"So." I sat down at my chair, confused at first, before I realized it wasn't squeaking. Fuck me--did he actually fix the damn thing? They had to be selling snow-boots in hell, then. Heero was staring at the papers across the main table, and I wheeled across the room to look at what he was doing. "Whatcha got?"
"Did you just get off the shuttle?"
"Uh... " I glanced at my watch. "About an hour ago."
"Go home, Duo." Heero wrinkled his nose at me. Adorable, if unexpected. "You look like shit."
"Gee, feel the love." I had to clench my jaw to hide a yawn. "There's still time in the day, and I wanted to--"
"My turn," Heero said, standing up. He walked around behind my chair, and started to tip it forward.
"Hey!" I caught myself on the edge of the table and gave him a murderous glare. "What the fuck was that for?"
"You." Heero walked to the door and opened it, pointing out. "Go home. Now. And call a cab. Don't walk."
"I'm capable of walking."
"Shut up. You're exhausted and need to sleep. Have you even eaten?"
I think I tried to answer, but my jaw was somewhere between my stomach and my knees. Okay. Heero had obviously been possessed by aliens and replaced with an exact replica. Again.
"I'll take that as a no," Heero said, then grabbed a piece of paper and pen from the desk, and held them out. "Give me your address. I'll bring you dinner."
Okay. Now I really wanted to punch him. If he decked me back, I'd know it was him in there. Somewhere. If he--shit, what else could he possibly do to prove it wasn't really Heero? Well, if he hugged me, I'd definitely know it wasn't Heero. Were clones legal? Maybe he was under some kind of mind control... I jerked backwards when Heero snapped his fingers in front of my face.
"Address, Duo. Write it down."
"Uh." I scribbled my address hastily, not even thinking about the fact that it was just across the street from him.
Bastard took it, looked it over, and simply said, "I know that neighborhood." He tucked the paper away. "Go home, take a shower, get some sleep, and I'll be by at eight-thirty."
I couldn't even think of what to say. I think I'd passed 'stunned' somewhere around him trying to dump me out of the chair, moved into 'staggered' when he demanded my address--and was somewhere around 'comfortably numb' and 'complete panic' at the thought of Heero under some kind of devious mind control. Slowly I got to my feet and trudged to the door.
"Hey... " I couldn't help myself, but looked over my shoulder at him. "You... you are Heero, in there, right? Cause this is a very unHeerolike thing--"
He just shrugged, and pointed to the door.
"Yeah. Right on it," I mumbled, and wandered from the office, barely remembering to hail a cab in front of the building. In shock, I stared blindly at the passing gray scenery the eight blocks home.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Naturally he barely stayed long enough to drop a plastic bag of various containers on my table. He muttered something about having to run. I stood in the doorway to my living room, perplexed at the way he fidgeted.
"Sure you don't want to sit down and eat with me?" I scratched at the base of my braid, wondering why it felt like the hair on the nape of my neck was on end. Other than having someone in my space, that was.
"No." Heero looked at his watch for the third time. "I have to--I have to be somewhere in a few."
"Oh." I barely had a chance to thank him a second time, and he was gone, the door shutting softly behind him. I stared at the door for a second, then shrugged and wandered to the table, poking into the bag, curious to see what he'd brought.
When I realized it was all home-cooked items--looked like leftovers, mostly--I wasn't sure whether to throw it out the window--maybe it'd hit him on the head as he left. But my stomach growled, and it smelled good, so I settled for grabbing a fork and cussing him out thoroughly while I ate.
A half-hour and a full stomach later, I washed the containers and set them on the countertop to dry, then pondered what I'd do. I'd gotten the latest email reply from my contact at Paradiso, and she--or he?--had said to call when I got back into the city. Not like I could tell a great deal from someone who signs emails as 'C. Jones.' But one way to find out--and wasn't like I had much else to do. Plus, it was only eight o'clock. Not too late to call.
The vid-screen stayed dark while the phone rang, then came on to show a young woman dropping down into a chair in front of the phone.
"Hey," she said, and waited for a second.
I cleared my throat, a bit nervous. "Hey," I said, and waved, then felt like a dork. "Uh, I'm Duo."
"Oh! I'm Colette, but in the scene I'm Zorya. You can call me either one." Her smile was bright, and she nodded her head, light-brown hair waving with the motion. I noticed the last three inches of her hair was tipped in crimson. It was an odd style, but somehow it looked right on her. "Nice to finally see you, though not in person, I guess?"
"Yeah," I replied, both at ease and at the same time feeling like I was interviewing for a job. She seemed to be taking in every detail, and I resisted the urge to squirm. Bet the asshole wouldn't squirm. Damn it. I straightened my shoulders and gave her an easy, lazy smile. "I'm back in town."
"Glad to hear it. So, did you want to meet for lunch sometime, or did you just want to come by the club? I'm there on Mondays and Wednesdays--it's much quieter during the week, with mostly regulars."
She had a soft lilt in her voice, and it took me a moment to place the accent. L3, definitely; Trowa sounded like that sometimes, when he was mimicking his sister. I wondered how she'd ended up in Bremen.
"Wednesday... " I thought about that. Heero had gone out both times on Thursdays. "What's Thursday nights?"
"Men's night," she said, and shrugged. "I'm there on some Thursday nights, if I have to D. Would you be more comfortable then?"
"Ah," I shook my head, hoping I wasn't giving the wrong impression. What the fuck was the right impression, anyway? "I mean, Wednesday's better for me."
"It's ladies' night," she warned me, and grinned in that same I've-got-a-secret way that Relena did, sometimes. When I smiled back, she chuckled low and sexy.
We made plans to meet up, and I was tempted to tell her I'd be dressed in black. But so would everyone else, I bet, so I settled for the next thing. Pulling my braid around, I waved it at her.
"It's pretty long," I said. "Can't miss it."
"Delightful," she purred, and I nearly dropped the braid.
Oh, shit. What had I just gotten myself into?
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Some stupid-ass reporter, after the second Eve War, had this bright idea to ask me if I felt like I'd been living in a movie. I think the movies he must've watched as a kid were a far sight different from the ones I got to see. Or maybe it's just cooler when it's someone else, or when it's cut and spliced and edited so you're sitting in an air-conditioned theater watching the montage. Believe me, nine hours straight of mechanical work on the guts of a Gundam are not nearly as exciting when there's no soundtrack and it doesn't pass in thirty seconds.
But man, if I wasn't wishing for some of that handy soundtrack indicating I was about to jump forward in time. Y'know, a few shots of me poring over documents while Heero prints something out, then one of us on the phone yelling, and then a shot of both of us and let's not go where my head just went. He was going to men's night at the club, and suddenly those ten hours were ten very long hours of reviewing transcripts, searching surveillance tapes, and thinking...
Heero's seeing a guy?
I couldn't help it. I started noticing the way his fingers spread, palm flat against the table, as though he were holding on. The drift of his dark hair, falling into his eyes, and the little annoyed twitch he'd give to get it out of the way. His blue shirt draped across his body--no revealed pecs or abs today, damn it--and his khaki slacks were slim around the waist and...
Fuck. Not moving from the table. Stay close to the table. Stop thinking those thoughts. I'd fucked friends before, and that's nothing new, and a few of them had been dangerous in their own right, if no threat to me. That didn't bother me. It was that Heero--gotta admit it, it's right fuckin' there in front of my nose--was not a friend.
But he'd brought me dinner. Was that a friend? Or was that just a coworker returning the favor of me sending him home? Maybe it was his new version of me punching him, him punching me, and us being even.
It was aggravating. When we boarded together, he had the body consciousness of the average small mammalian life form. He'd stalk from shared bathroom to dresser stark naked and think nothing of it. The first time he'd done it, I think I nearly leaped out of my bed in shock, and it was the first time I'd seen something remotely similar to shock in his eyes. He had dropped into a crouch, defensive--ass-naked and still lethal, fuck all--but then realized I was throwing a towel, not a knife.
Heero had cracked this tiny little smile, and after that, had no qualms about stripping right near me. And I, modest little dork that I was, didn't quite freak but I was disapproving. And for the record, I never squeaked, either. But I changed in the bathroom a great deal.
Yeah, I'd been among the Sweepers, and I'd had a gang as a kid, and I'd lived in an orphanage, but living in such tight quarters meant you really had no space outside yourself. It was all right up against your skin, so you kept your skin covered. That way, your space was protected. Maybe it sounds strange, but it's a logic that might only make sense when you've lived most of your life in really close spots.
My body was the only privacy I ever got, and even that was almost compromised a few times when G did his medical exams. I hated being in that stupid paper-gown, waiting for him to take X-rays or give me shots. I felt like he'd stepped into my personal space and was leaving me without any defenses.
And here was Heero, in all his glory, and he didn't give a damn. The body was just one more tool to him, one more weapon, and it took me a long time to realize that he didn't care about it, didn't notice it except when it didn't work... really, it wasn't his. Nothing was.
" ...o?"
"Hunh?" I blinked at him, suddenly seeing him standing on the other side of the table, bare-chested and I wished the table weren't in the way of my dreams. I blinked again, and he was standing with his arms crossed, fully-dressed, and looking mildly annoyed. "Uh, sorry. Just thinking."
He frowned, slightly, but nodded. "The reports are in from the L1 precincts. They're sending in an undercover officer tomorrow... " He continued on, droning in that deadpan way of his, but his lips kept twitching in the oddest way.
I stayed really close to the table for about a half-hour, before I felt safe to stretch my legs and move back to my own computer. Heero, I lectured myself, is a coworker, and probably no longer walks around his apartment nude and don't go there. Focus on work.
It took a long deep breath, and a moment of staring at the casualty rates related to Crow-71, and I was back on track. I had one reason for being on Earth: take down the biggest Crow-71 ring I could manage. After that... I didn't know. And really, for all the momentary curiosity about Heero and the random wish to make sure he was okay, I really didn't fucking care.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The club's line was small, and I paid the cover charge to the girl behind the counter. She was on a phone-set, murmuring noncommittal phrases at random intervals, rolling her eyes at something the other person was saying.
"Sorry," she said into the phone, and shook her head at me. "Did you say drink or play?"
"Drink," I replied, hoping that was the proper response. I wouldn't be expected to actually do anything, right--and wait a minute, who the fuck said I would? I was just there to find out what the scene was like, and whether Heero was okay. Right. "Drink," I repeated.
"Okay. Blue band," and she snapped it around my wrist. "Lose it, and you'll have to pay a second time, but double. And if you're caught playing with a blue band, Fenris will throw you on your ass, and you won't be allowed back in. Got that?"
"For the night, or forever?"
I didn't catch her answer in the swell of the bass beat coming through the doors; besides, I'd looked in the direction she'd pointed, and that did it for me. Must process. The man towering by the door was... well, it was sort of like being fifteen again and looking at Rashid. The guy was fuckin' huge, and he was glowering at me. I didn't smile; I just stared him down and he stared right back at me.
The woman stood up, leaning over the counter to pat Fenris the Living Mountain on the shoulder. She was dressed in black t-shirt and jeans, and it was only when she moved that I realized her braid was nearly as long as mine. She was also my height. I couldn't help it. Hormones jumped to life, and I checked for a wedding ring.
"He looks like a meanie," she told me. Fenris glared at her. "And," she continued, settling back down and adjusting the headset, "he is. So drink safe and don't play."
"Got it," I muttered, and managed a small smile.
"Sweetie," she said into the phone-set, barely noticing my departure. "I don't think the green dress looks bad." Her honey tones dropped to something considerably steelier and a bit more threatening. "And if you say it makes you look fat, you're sleeping on the motherfucking sofa, got that?"
Fuck, I nearly groaned. Doesn't even swing my way. Figures. I gave Fenris a look, but Fenris just ignored me. Okay. Feel the love from the walking mountain. Onward into the breach and all that crap.
On to Chapter five
Back to chapter three